The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  Raine checked the faces around the table. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, guys, otherwise this marriage between the marshal’s office and us moves forward.” When there were no objections, she tossed Mitch a beaming smile. “You have your answer.”

  Chapter Thirty-One - Justice

  That night, as they waited for the forward compartments to flood, they planned their next dive. It was all they could talk about. Anticipation ran hot about bringing up the first box. What would they find inside?

  Over a supper of beef stew and biscuits, which Tessa made from scratch, the crew started a betting pool. The leading wager: gold bars, followed by diamonds and other precious gems. In third place, coins were popular, and bringing up the rear, great works of art.

  No one voiced what they all feared. The boxes might hold nothing of value at all. They might be stuffed with boring files or ordinary supplies or even worse, moldy clothing.

  As the night went on, the brothers argued about who would get the honor of bringing up the first box.

  “It’s my boat,” Mitch pointed out.

  “But I’m the oldest. And so far all I’ve done is sit behind a bank of computer screens and get us to this spot,” Jackson stated. “I want to see the sub for myself.”

  “So who’s stopping you? And you didn’t exactly get us here. Klaus did. It should be me bringing that box up,” Garret argued. “I’m the best diver here and I’m in better shape than you two guys.”

  “You really need to do something about that ego of yours,” Mitch fired back.

  Sebastian butted in with his two cents. “Why not let me go? I’m perfectly willing to trade guard duty to get a look inside that sub.”

  “Not me,” Dominka tossed out. “You should stay put. It might explode with all those bombs on it.”

  “Your English has gotten a lot better,” Sebastian noted proudly. “I’ve been working with her.”

  Raine rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “As I remember back to your childhood, which coincided with mine, your mother used a tried and true method of handling disputes between the Indigo brood.”

  Mitch leaned back in his chair. “What method was that? Beat each other to a bloody stump out in the backyard?”

  “Livvy hit harder than you did back then,” Jackson prodded, hoping to get a rise out of him. “She gave me a bloody lip every time I turned around, more often than you did.”

  “That’s because you were always picking on her,” Mitch explained.

  Raine refused to give up. “Guys, could we focus for a minute? I’m not suggesting anyone gets a bloody nose. Lenore’s method back then always seemed to work. If I’m not mistaken she always dragged out Monopoly, had you guys play a game. Winner got the award—whatever it happened to be that you were all fighting about.”

  Jackson twisted up his mouth. “Ah, I seem to recall that.” He cocked a brow toward Mitch. “Got Monopoly?”

  “You know I do. I’m the reigning champ.”

  As Mitch stood up to take down the game from the overhead, Jackson rubbed his hands together. “Okay, so we break this down into diving teams. I’m Team Jackson paired with Tessa. If I win, we dive tomorrow at first light and bring up the box. Once we get it to the surface, we get to pop it open and see what’s inside. If Garret wins, it’ll be him and Anniston. And if Mitch wins, he dives with Raine.”

  But before they could roll the first pair of dice, they had to argue over who got to be the race car.

  “This part I remember,” Garret declared. “Rock-paper-scissors.”

  Team Jackson won the car, but was the first to go bust, followed by Team Garret, who landed on Boardwalk, owned by a prosperous Mitch, sitting pretty with three hotels.

  Team Mitch did the in-your-face victory dance around the galley to hoots, hollers, and laughter, along with a couple of embarrassing snapshots taken explicitly for posting on social media after all this had come to an end.

  Later in their stateroom, Mitch and Raine were tucked into bed, trying to settle in for the night. But both were too electrified with excitement to do anything but think about tomorrow’s upcoming dive.

  “What’d you bet on?” Mitch asked.

  “Well, even though Klaus gave us every indication his sub carried substantial amounts of gold, it’s difficult for me to visualize that. Plus, let’s face it, I’m not that lucky. So I went with artwork. How about you?”

  “Precious gems. Mainly because I have a hard time believing some of the things in that diary.”

  “But he was right about the location.”

  “Every boat captain I know would never lie about his location. He’d know where he was at all times and note it down in the logbook, using nautical coordinates or at least describing landmarks along the way. He did both of those things, which helped us get here.”

  “Let’s not forget Professor Bishop’s contribution.”

  “No question we never could’ve gotten this far without his translation.” Mitch wrapped her up in his arms, brushed his lips to her forehead. “We need to get some sleep.”

  “I’m too churned up.”

  “There’s only one cure for churned up,” Mitch said, reaching under the covers. “I’ll just have to settle you down the old-fashioned way.”

  The next morning when they dropped into the water off the dive platform, they had to force themselves to descend at a slow rate even though their adrenaline was jacked up. They stuck to the timetable on their dive watches and made sure to stop at the designated spots along the way, waiting the correct amount of time at each depth.

  They’d brought a tool bag this trip and hoped they could finally get into the sealed compartments.

  It took patience before they reached the sub. They started in the aft section. After careful inspection, Mitch decided to try to squeeze through the hole Garret had provided and make his way to the engine room where decades ago the bomb had done the most damage.

  At six-two it was a tight fit, but he managed to wriggle his way through without ripping his wetsuit or damaging his tank.

  Raine followed him in, carefully, but her slim body had no problem swimming through the opening.

  Once inside the engine room, she wondered how the crew was ever able to move around to get much done. Everywhere she looked there were wheels, gauges, valves, and the two large diesel engines taking up most of the space.

  The flow of the water had deposited sand, and lots of it. Small marine life—starfish, urchins, and crabs—had set up housekeeping here. She spotted several crabs scurrying off when she darted over in their direction.

  Mitch pointed to an oversized Atlantic lobster, old and hiding under one of the valves.

  Raine returned the favor when sudden movement revealed a yellowish oyster toadfish nestled in the sand next to one of the diesel engines. It moved quickly to devour a small blue fish before disappearing into the cavernous darkness.

  Mitch grabbed her arm, aiming a finger toward an eel that looked like a gray piece of ribbon blowing in the wind.

  For all the playful activity around them, one thing was still for certain—the watertight hatch to the aft crew quarters and the torpedo room remained tightly sealed.

  Mitch motioned to head the other way to the forward compartments. Raine trailed behind him as they made their way through the sub to the other end until they were in front of the bulkhead hatch that led into the forward crew quarters and torpedo compartment.

  He studied the crank used to unlock the hatch. Trying to turn the rusted metal got him nowhere. The locking ring wouldn’t budge.

  Digging in the tool bag, he brought out a long pipe wrench and used it as a lever. Using every ounce of his weight, he pushed down on the pipe until the crank rotated slightly.

  Raine added her weight to the wheel crank. With a loud grunt and groan, they noticed tiny bubbles of air escaping as the wheel continued to give. They reset their pipe wrench and pushed down again. They had to repeat the process several more times until the hatch door gave an
d swung open.

  A huge gas bubble spewed its way out into the room as more seawater rushed in to replace it. The force of the seawater was so fierce they had to grab hold of the nearest metal to keep from getting sucked into the compartment.

  Back on The Black Rum, the crew watched from the railing as a large pool of gas bubbles broke through the surface of the water. The smell was like someone had opened a hundred bottles of bleach at the same time.

  Garret waved everyone back from the railing. “Chlorine gas from the U-boat batteries. The odor will dissipate in a few minutes.”

  In the command center, Jackson picked up the com link. “Are you guys okay?”

  On the sub, Mitch looked at Raine before answering. “Thanks for worrying, big brother, but we’re fine. About to enter the crew’s quarters.” He adjusted the camera attached to his headgear. “Are you getting our feed? Is it coming through clear enough?”

  “You’re looking good from up here. Just be careful.”

  Mitch stepped inside the compartment and panned his camera around the room.

  Raine shadowed Mitch toward the row of boxes.

  “Take your pick,” Mitch offered with a wink. “Which one’s the lucky case?”

  She scanned the line of metal chests. “Why me? Pressure’s on. Tough decision.”

  “You pick the lucky box and I’ll go see if I can get the escape hatch open directly over our heads.”

  Mitch retrieved his pipe wrench and went to work on the trapdoor.

  Raine slowly moved down the hallway studying each box; they all looked exactly alike to her. Nothing made any box stand out from the others. She tried to move one of the boxes, thinking that if it outweighed another, she’d use that as her selection process, thinking more would be in there. Maybe they could stack several together, like a shopping cart, and she wouldn’t be limited to picking just one.

  While she grappled with her decision, Mitch struggled to get the hatch door open. He picked up the cutting torch and went to work on the hinges.

  Topside, the crew’s attention was riveted on what was happening with the divers below. They were so focused on the monitors, no one picked up the military-style inflatable launch, carrying several armed men, as it came up on the port side of the boat.

  One by one, the men climbed aboard and headed for the bridge where a lone crewman stood guard.

  Prentiss was supposed to keep watch for any ships or planes that got too close and let Garret or Jackson know. But he’d gotten so engrossed on watching the feed and what was happening below the surface he never saw the boat. He certainly didn’t expect the blow to the head that knocked him out.

  Having taken care of Prentiss, Baskin and Dandridge appeared in the doorway of the command center.

  “Well, well, well,” Baskin began. “Everyone just step back away from the computers and relax. We’re here to take whatever it is you assholes found on that sub off your hands.”

  Jackson and Garret exchanged looks, noting the AK-47 rifles each man held in his hand. “What took you so long to get here?” Jackson goaded, coolly leaning back in his chair.

  Dandridge wasn’t buying the unruffled demeanor. “Come on, you didn’t know about us. We’ve been following you at a distance since you hit the Atlantic.”

  “No kidding,” Garret snarled. “Who would’ve thought murderers and thieves such as yourselves would think to steal from someone else? Certainly not us.”

  “Just shut up,” Baskin ordered. He pointed to one of his men. “Start tying these bastards up and stuff a rag in their mouths, so I don’t have to listen to them talk.”

  Not happy at the prospect of having his hands tied, Garret slipped his toolkit out of his pocket and into the back pocket of his jeans. He leaned over to Anniston, murmured in her ear, “Don’t count out Mitch and Raine. Not yet. They’ll do whatever they have to do to get us out of this situation.”

  “It’ll take a miracle,” she whispered back. “What I want to know is how they got the drop on Sebastian and Walsh. I didn’t hear any gunfire.”

  As the crewman tried to tie up Tessa, Tessa kicked him in the leg. “Don’t touch me! Which one of you assholes killed my brother?”

  “Sit down and shut up,” the man uttered before slapping her in the face.

  Jackson got to his feet. “You want to hit someone, try me. Or do you just like slapping women around? Leave her the hell alone.”

  But Tessa wouldn’t be silenced. “Are you too chicken to tell me?” she hollered across the room toward Baskin. “Why can’t you admit to killing a defenseless man who had epilepsy and wouldn’t have hurt a fly? Which one of you killed my brother in cold blood? I deserve to know the truth.”

  Baskin strolled over to where Tessa sat in one of the command chairs, got in her face. “You want to know who put the bullet in his head? I did. But you should blame Walker. Your brother’s blood is on his hands. Walker just couldn’t keep his mouth shut and had to keep blathering on about the gold to any idiot who happened by. Walker thought he could bring Connelly in on the deal and we’d hand over a share to a perfect stranger. Your brother had to be eliminated once he learned about the gold. We couldn’t let him go back to bumfuck Carolina and spread rumors about it all over the Internet.”

  Suddenly Baskin pointed his weapon at Jackson’s head. “Any more questions, Miss Connelly?”

  Tessa shook her head and grabbed hold of Jackson’s hand. “Sit down now. I won’t say another word, I promise. Just leave Jackson alone.”

  “That’s right. You won’t say another word because I want all of you to shut the fuck up,” Baskin barked. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your two divers are about to suffer a very nasty accident below the surface. As soon as we make sure the sub is secure, we’ll make every one of you disappear and scuttle this piece of shit.” He turned to Dandridge. “Get that knucklehead Gaspar over the side and have him take Braxton with him. You go, too.”

  “Me?” Dandridge questioned. “Why me? Braxton and Gaspar are fully capable of taking care of everything below.”

  “That’s right. They are. And you’re going to make sure they do it. Duarte won’t be here for another hour and a half. That leaves me here and two other crewmen to hold guns at the heads of everyone on The Rum and make sure they don’t cause any problems. Now go on, go with Gaspar and Braxton. Make yourself useful.”

  Before relinquishing command, Jackson had left the com link open so that Mitch and Raine could hear the entire conversation below the surface.

  Underneath the water, Raine tried not to panic. She looked over at Mitch and put a finger to her lips.

  He nodded in agreement, knowing they needed to shut off their communication device and use hand signals or their divers’ boards from here on out.

  Mitch snatched up his slate, scrawled the number three, showed it to Raine.

  She moved her head up and down in understanding. Three guys were on their way down to kill them. Check.

  They quickly took stock of what they could use for weapons. They had the cutting torch and the two heavy pipe wrenches. They’d brought along four shark sticks, also known as bangsticks. Divers used them to defend themselves against large predators. The sticks were mounted to twenty-six-inch poles and loaded with a single .44 magnum shell. All these things were close range weapons that could be used to their advantage in a surprise attack.

  While Mitch and Raine waited for the divers who would come for them, they planned their ambush.

  Since the hole was only wide enough for one man to enter at a time, they decided on divide and conquer as their strategy.

  They would set out one of the reserve air tanks in the engine room with the valve open to create air bubbles and give the intruders the impression they were inside hard at work.

  The plan was to lure the first diver into the engine room, wait for the second diver to start in, and then they would emerge from the other side of the sub and take out the lone remaining diver. From there, they’d attack the second
diver. After getting rid of him, the odds would be in their favor. They’d go after the diver in the engine room, teaming up against him.

  Edgy, Mitch and Raine waited for the three men to come into view. It wasn’t long before Mitch spotted three figures swimming toward the sub.

  The divers pulled up a short distance from the U-boat, and pointed to the trail of air bubbles escaping from the area. A heated discussion ensued, as if the men couldn’t quite make up their minds on how to proceed.

  Gaspar wanted to wait and take Mitch and Raine as they eventually emerged from the sub.

  But the argument was settled when they heard Baskin over the com link order his men to throw caution to the wind and charge in, making sure they finished the job quickly. Baskin’s rash nature and blood lust took over. “Take them out. Now!”

  Mitch went into action, arming the four bangsticks and handing one off to Raine, taking the time to press his dive mask against hers, and mouthing the words, “I love you.”

  She mouthed the words back to him. “I love you, too.”

  They waited, nervous and anxious.

  Gaspar and Braxton reluctantly watched as Dandridge took the lead and went through the door first. Gaspar counted off a few seconds before he too, entered. That left Braxton standing alone.

  With his bangstick, Mitch jabbed the end as hard as he could into the man’s side.

  Raine watched a large bubble of air form around the spot of contact, followed by blood trailing out of the diver’s body. The man jerked several times before going limp.

  Mitch shoved the body out of his way so he could get to the next diver. Gaspar turned to face Mitch and raised his spear gun to fire. Before Gaspar could pull the trigger, Raine rammed the bangstick into his chest. Another air bubble enveloped his torso, followed by a cloud of red water. He let go of the spear gun as he clutched his chest. His eyes went dead and then he stopped moving.

  Raine pushed the body away from Mitch. But before they could head through the hole to go after the third diver, a spear clanked off Mitch’s air tank. Dandridge appeared in the opening. He fired off another round, missing Mitch by inches. Dandridge rushed past them on his way out of the sub and headed back the way he’d come in.